Antonella Anedda (Anedda Angioy) lives between Rome and Sardinia. She received a classical education and studied in Venice and Oxford. Her books of poems include her Notti di pace occidentale (Nights of Western Peace) of 1999, Il catalogo della gioia (The Catalogue of Joy) of 2003, Dal balcone del corpo (From the Balcony of the Body) Mondadori, 2007, Salva con nome (Save as, Mondadori 2012) and her most recent work, Historiae, (Einaudi, 2018). Among her many books of prose is her study of details in works of art, La vita dei dettagli, of 2009, and a survey of the history and geography of Sardinia, Isolatria, of 2013.
Antonella Anedda has received numerous important prizes for her poetry such as the Premio Eugenio Montale; Viareggio-Rapaci; the Premio Puškin; In September 2019 she received a PhD honoris causa for her poetry from the University of Sorbonne IV.
“The sea is full of exiles, the rocks covered with blood”
Tacitus: Historiae
I think today of those two, among the many drowned
a few yards from this sunny coast,
found under the hull tightly clasped together.
I wonder if coral can grow from their bones
and what will become of their blood in the salt,
so then I study – searching out among my father’s
old books of forensic medicine a manual
where, undifferentiated, the victims and the criminals
are photographed: suicides, murderers, genital organs.
No landscapes, just the iron sky of the photos,
occasionally a chair, a body covered by a sheet, bare feet
on a camp bed. I read, and discover that the precise term
is livor mortis. Blood gathers below and clots
first red then livid purple till it turns to dust
and so yes it can disperse itself amid the salt
© Translated by Jamie McKendrick
HISTORIA
“Plenum exiliis mare, infetti caedibus scopuli”
Publius Cornelius Tacito, Historiae
Oggi penso ai due dei tanti morti affogati
a pochi metri da queste coste soleggiate
trovati sotto lo scafo, stretti, abbracciati.
Mi chiedo se sulle ossa crescerà il corallo
e cosa ne sarà del sangue dentro il sale,
allora studio – cerco tra i vecchi libri
di medicina legale di mio padre –
un manuale dove le vittime
sono fotografate insieme ai criminali
alla rinfusa: suicidi, assassini, organi genitali.
Niente paesaggi solo il cielo d’acciaio delle foto, raramente una sedia
un torso coperto da un lenzuolo, i piedi sopra una branda, nudi.
Leggo. Scopro che il termine esatto è livor mortis.
Il sangue si raccoglie in basso e si raggruma
prima rosso poi livido infine si fa polvere
e può, si’ sciogliersi nel sale.
© Antonella Anedda
Published with the permission of Antonella Anedda